Morte a Roma, Roma Romantico
by MacMhuirich
Summary: Tim, as Thom E. Gemcity, has been invited to sign copies of his latest novel at an international book fair in Rome, Italy, and asks Ziva to accompany him on this trip which will take them to the most beautiful parts of this ancient and lively capital and its surroundings. However, an American mystery writer is found floating in the Tiber... McGiva
1. Chapter 1

**_This was my WEE (White Elephant Exchange) gift for Sondheimmcgeek. Forgot to post it here. Ooops!_**

**_One of her prompts was "Roman Holiday" (in a nutshell: Tim and Ziva-centric, romance/possible case file, Rome). I'd intended it to be a longer multi-chapter. Alas, a painful encounter with a fish tank...thwarted my original plans._**

**_The story hasn't been proofread. Sorry for errors of any kind._**

**_Anyway, the story: enjoy!_**

* * *

Ziva spent the length of the transatlantic flight poring over Tim's latest novel, only setting it aside for the meals and a nap.

Also, there'd been moments when she'd reclined in her seat, eyes closed, wondering about when she – and let's not forget about the others who'd been just as much at fault – had acted so downright nasty at the time he'd published his first novel, Deep Six : The Continuing Adventures of L.J. Tibbs.

Oh, he'd bent over backwards reassuring them ad nauseam that his characters had absolutely not been based on them. Tibbs, Lisa, Tommy, Pimmy and Amy were entirely fictional and had nothing in common with his real life coworkers. Of course, everyone within NCIS HQ knew what a bad liar he was and he'd known it. Granted, he'd somewhat caricatured them, which wasn't such a nice thing to do with the people you had to work with on a daily basis, year after year. It didn't matter he'd had his characters work for a fictionalized federal agency. They hadn't appreciated Deep Six, period.

When he was working on his next novel, Rock Hollow, they didn't even bother bringing the subject up anymore...until...people got killed because of it when a crazy fan had laid his hands on the carbon film ribbon for a sneak peek and mistook fiction for reality.

After that, things had gone very quiet around Thom E. Gemcity and nobody really seemed to care. That was, until his literary agent, Lyndi Crawshaw, passed him an invitation to sign his latest book...in Rome!

And McGee had asked Ziva if she would like to accompany him on this trip. After all, she'd been placed on administrative leave pending an internal investigation after she'd delivered another agent's boys a rather painful blow and called him a liar just at the most inopportune moment possible: during an official visit of the Secretary of Navy and the Ministers of Defense and Justice. Oh, the team unanimously agreed the 'victim' had more than deserved it.

So it happened she didn't need to think twice and eagerly accepted her friend's proposal. Whilst he was going to be pretty busy signing books at the fair, she'd do some browsing around the Eternal City. And since this wasn't going to be a quick trip to Rome, they'd both enjoy to the fullest the sights and sounds of this capital that once was the heart of the Roman Empire.

Oh, Tony hadn't wasted a moment poking some fun at the whole trip and even made some meaningful faces, after ascertaining himself Gibbs wasn't around when he did. It was quite obvious he was rather envious of their pending holiday...together.

Ziva had been excited in spite of the looming investigation into her unprofessional behavior. She trusted her coworker. After all, McGee was such a gentleman.

It had all happened so very last minute. Barely two days had passed since being forced on an imposed vacation when she got this inviting call from McGee. Not a week later, they were both flying out to Europe.

-o0o-

The location of the hotel they were booked into for the trip was perfect. Its location was in a very old, albeit rather...forbidding narrow street where you had to be on your guard if you didn't want to get run down by a Vespa! Not at all the kind of location one would expect a 4 star hotel, anyway. However, it was at a stone's throw from the main attractions and the Palazzo di Pallotti, where the 2nd International Book Fair was to be held, was a mere three blocks away.

No, it was not exactly a wow location; yet, the Via dei Pettinari, with its dark, terracotta colored buildings, did ooze charm and history, and they both liked this quite unique atmosphere very much.

Upon arrival in their hotel room, Ziva kicked off her shoes and vanished in the bathroom to refresh.

Tim flopped onto one of the twin beds, long legs over the side, hands resting on his stomach, and, heaving a deep sigh, he closed his eyes as he reflected upon this trip.

If he were honest with himself, he'd have to admit to feeling a little bit nervous. Just a little bit. Little tendrils of anxiety invading his mind. It wasn't the first time he'd been at a book fair promoting his work. No. But it was the first time he was to be present at one across the Big Pond...in Italy...where people spoke Italian...and he hardly knew any Italian at all! Granted, he could make an order of _pizza quatro stagione_or _un filetti di petti di pollo_ sound as Italian as he could but that was as far as it went. _Scusi. Prego. Grazie. Si, no._ Oh, and he could count till 10 in Italian, _per favore!_

His chest deflated as he let out a heavy sigh.

He didn't notice Ziva entering the room, dabbing her face dry, nor the amused smile gracing her lips as she covertly watched him.

He suddenly jerked up straight as an idea occurred. He'd downloaded this World Nomads translator apps for some reason, right? Oh, and when he'd stepped into the elevator, yesterday, Tony, a secretive smile on his tanned...Italiano gigolo face, had waved a small parcel the size of a pocket book in front of his nose. He then proceeded by grabbing Tim's free hand (the fingers of his other being curled around the shoulder strap of his backpack) and placing the...gift...into it.

_The Pocket Idiot's Guide to Italian Phrases._

He groaned. He wasn't really annoyed by the ludicrous title. Nope. It was just...why hadn't he thought about those linguistic aids when he had plenty of time on his hands to actually do something useful during the flight? Like...memorizing some phrases and useful key-words?

Alas, it was too late for that, now. Surely most Italians were more than capable at conversing in English? Unless... Wouldn't they be more fluent in French? Or German?

_Gah!_

With a grunt he got on his feet and retrieved his backpack, which he'd wearily deposited beside his wheeled travel bag, and started rummaging for the folder which contained all the documents pertaining to this trip. Holding an email print in his hand, he sauntered over to the French windows which opened to a lovely courtyard and started to read it.

Ziva, feeling somewhat refreshed, drew her Samsonite to her bed and lifted it onto the covers to open it.

"So, what are the plans?" Ziva asked, lifting a nice, cobalt blue gown from her suitcase.

Tim looked up from the email he'd drawn from the folder.

"'Kayyy... Let's seeee... It's almost dinner time and, I don't know about you but I'm starving. Now cosy as this little hotel may be, they don't serve dinner. I suggest we ask the girl at the front desk before we go out. Maybe she'll be able to recommend a cosy little restaurant."

"Good. Priority number 1; dinner. Now, how about the rest of this weekend?" Ziva asked with a slight nod towards the sheet of paper he held between his fingers.

"Oh! Well... On Saturday, June 29th – that's tomorrow - the local crime writers will be the presenting their latest books from 10am until 12pm...which means we'll have all morning off and plenty of time to do some reconnaissance and get familiar with the area. I'm expected to be present all afternoon from 1:30pm till 5pm when I'll be signing copies of "Eight Bells Till Death". Besides selling – hopefully! - copies of my latest novel, I'll have to participate at a discussion with the ever-entertaining Glenn Cole, a cartoonist. Same routine on Sunday. But after that... Rome is all ours! Let's make the fullest of our week in this historic if chaotic metropolis! There's a wealth to explore! The Colosseum, the Forum Romanum, Piazza Navona, the Capitoline Museum, the..."

"Are you sure one week will suffice, Tim?" Ziva laughed, deftly fastening the clasp of her necklace before tossing her hair back with one elegant hand.

She looked into his – now dreamy, yet enthusiastic – eyes as he thought of all the wonderful places to visit...maybe even thinking about more?

He blushed and turned back to gaze into the courtyard below.

"I get it. It's on your list of the things to do before you die, yes?"

"Well...yes," Tim replied.

Suddenly, he felt her slender arms circle around his waist and he quite relished the feeling. Back in DC, they were so very careful displaying their feelings.

"Then let me tell you a secret: Rome was on my list as well."

"It was?" Tim asked, feeling a strange hope settling in.

Ziva nodded, her loose hair falling across her face. She let go of Tim and stood beside him. He turned his face towards her and carefully took a stray lock of her glossy auburn hair to gently tuck it behind her ear.

"Ever since I saw..._Roman Holiday_ with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck."

"A classic," Tim grinned.

"Tim..."

"Yeah?"

"I..." Ziva cleared her throat self consciously. "Could we include a ride on a scooter through the city?"

What?

Tim's eyebrows instantly went up. Did he hear this right?

"Uhm... Are you sure? I mean... Isn't this a bit too risky? I'd prefer to make it home again in one piece, if you don't mind, Zee."

"Worth a try, isn't it?"

She hooked an arm in Tim's as they turned away from the window again.

"We'll see," Tim chuckled, returning the email to the folder and dropping it on the credenza, next to the information map the hotel provided for its guests.


	2. Chapter 2

**Woo-hooooo! At long last! I'm finally able to reply to one of **_earthdragon_**'s reviews! I'm so glad I can finally let you know how much I appreciate your comments! You're so right: Rome is indeed one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I've seen much in a week (spent 2, actually) and, yup, far too much to be seen! The little hotel in this fic: I stayed, there, but it was only B&B at the time (they now do serve dinner, there) and I remember they kept a tortoise as a pet. :D As for riding a Vespa; if you're a daredevil and going for the kick, do it. I, however, wouldn't recommend it, and if you do, I hope you have a good insurance. LOL**

**Thank y'all who clicked the favorite/follow button!**

**However, on with the story! "****_Feast your eyes!_****" **

**Cookies for anyone who can guess whom I'm quoting. ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

To McGee's surprise, time flew at the book signing event and by the end of the first day, he was ready to admit he quite enjoyed himself. The enthusiastic Italians proved fairly proficient in English after all which made communication a lot easier than anticipated.

When he took a break, he ran into the American mystery author Ziva and him had met on the flight and the two men sat down with a coffee. McGee found his new friend to be a good conversationalist and it didn't take long for Tim to relax somewhat.

The two men talked about how they got affected by the writing bug, their motivations, their fear of falling short of becoming a successful author. For Jason Beaumont, it was his insatiable love of reading and solving mysteries that got him started and he entertained his fellow writer with amusing anecdotes and witty comments when reviewing other authors' works. In return, Tim; also expected to relate his experiences, offered a cursory biography of himself. He never was one for talking about himself and preferred to keep his privacy as intact as possible.

When Ziva inquired after his session at the book fair over a delicious gelato at the Fontana di Trevi, Tim readily talked about Jason Beaumont and other new and interesting acquaintances he'd made. It wasn't without some pride that he could tell her about how very well his novels seemed to be doing. Statistics and reviews were all fine and well, but actually _being told _was another thing altogether. So much more gratifying and rewarding.

They tossed the traditional coin in the fountain before heading back to the hotel to get ready for dinner.

The next day, to Tim's surprise, Jason Beaumont didn't turn up and it caused a bit of a stir. Tim couldn't make much of the locals' Italian twittering until one of the organizers made his way to his stand, wondering if he had heard anything about his fellow American author. Had he taken ill, perhaps? Had an emergency required him to return home post haste? But Tim, to their dismay, couldn't help them, there. In fact, he felt his own curiosity piqued and it was soon to be satisfied...

Well... 'Satisfied' was not exactly the most appropriate term. Not in this case, anyway. 

-o0o-

The next morning, after a sumptuous breakfast served in the hotel's peaceful courtyard, they made an early start to visit the Musei Capitolini, housing some of the most beautiful masterpieces of classic art. Like the remarkably realistic Dying Gaul Ziva had been gazing at for...eternity. All nude save for a neck torc. And there were plenty more nudes...young males...a nude Venus...the boy with the thorn, the Resting Satyr... Definitely a favourite theme in ancient sculpture. That much was sure. The number of times Tim had to roll his eyes whenever he caught Ziva ogling the nude Grecian and Roman sculptures. To his immense relief, they moved on to the next Palazzo where more treasures were displayed.

After lunch, they decided to go for a walk along the banks of the Tiber and were just heading down the stairs when they noticed the emergency services crew pulling a body out of the water and placing it on a stretcher.

Something caught Tim's eye. The sight of the jacket and the black, skinny, leather-look pants compelled him to get closer. He had to be sure.

One look at his face, and Ziva followed him without question. She'd hear all about it later, she knew.

"Scusi..." Tim started politely. "Parla inglese? Do you speak English?"

He was sure his Italian sucked, but he was confident they would understand.

One of the men looked up from searching for an ID and warily approached the two NCIS Agents.

"I do. Can I help you?"

Tim dug out his legitimation and Ziva followed his example as she let her eyes go over the lifeless body, hoping to find a clue what had sparked her partner's interest, but finding none.

The man studied Tim's NCIS ID intently and then shook his head. "Naval Criminal Investigative Service? I don't think this is within your jurisdiction, but perhaps you know this...the victim? In that case, your assistence would be greatly appreciated by the Polizia."

Tim nodded gravely as put away his ID. "I'd like to have a closer look, if you don't mind."

"Please," the man said, stepping aside and beckoning them with an outstretched arm directed towards the scene.

It was as Tim had thought. He saw his fears confirmed. It was Jason Beaumont. There wasn't the slightest doubt. The body hadn't been submerged long enough to become bloated and beyond recognition.

"Oh," Ziva merely voiced, recalling chatting with the man on the transatlantic flight.

One of the crew stated it wasn't uncommon for young male tourists to jump or fall off bridges after some binge-drinking. Pub crawls were high on the list for some youthful visitors from the UK. Another, much younger man, protested it wasn't as dramatic as that. Granted, the river cutting through the capital of Italy had the disputable reputation of claiming quite a number of deaths, one had to bear in mind not all victims ending up in the Tiber were drunks.

"The story goes," the young man explained, "Tiberinus Silvius, one of the kings of Rome, drowned in the Tiber... Now you see where the river got her name from.

Tim, his eyes still roaming the body and itching to squat down and check for evidence of his demise, shook his head.

"No. This man wasn't drunk."

"You seem to be positive? Do you know who he is?"

"Yes... I know him...knew him. That is, we met him on the plane and we chatted at the book fair. He's a crime writer." He nodded at the wallet one crew member was flipping open, looking for some papers for identification.

"You'll find his name to be Jason Beaumont. From Louisiana, I believe."

"Louisiana? Why do you think that is where he lives?" Ziva commented sotto voce.

"Aha," the man announced, pulling out a driver's license, and then nodded in confirmation. " Jason Beaumont...living in...Shreveport, Louisiana."

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "So that's... How?" She mouthed.

"Thick Cajun accent. Surely you've noticed it, too, Zee," Tim said with a grin.

"Of course. So...why was he killed..."

"So you also believe this wasn't an accident?"

Ziva shrugged. "I think we have been too long in law enforcement to think otherwise."

"Scusi... May I...er...?" Tim asked the crew who'd hauled the body onto the quayside. "Not going to touch anything. I just want to have a cursory look, if it's all right..."

Permission granted, Tim hunkered down beside the body to check for outward signs of violence. He observed none. Other than seeing the lifeless body of a fellow author, there was little useful evidence to be gathered, here.

Standing up again, he noticed the arrival of two carabinieri.

The officers, as soon as they learned that two law enforcement officers from the States showed a professional interest in the...drowning, were quite forthcoming and eager to accept assistance with the case, which they now also assumed was no mere accident.

Tim and Ziva left after they promised they would remain available for further information.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Right... Time for some McGiva, if that's okay with y'all. :)**_

* * *

.

_**Chapter 3:**_

It was Monday and Tim and Ziva decided to explore the historic points of interest within walking distance. In this city, there was something interesting awaiting just around every corner.

As they wandered among the ancient ruins of the Forum Romanum, Ziva, laughing happily, darted off to pose in line with the Vestal Virgins, holding an invisible eternal flame. Needless to say, Tim couldn't let this opportunity pass to snap a picture of her...Ziva the Vestal... He shook his head, dismissing his errant thoughts. But, God!, she was just so gorgeous...

He watched her, as she hopped off the lowest of the vacant pedestals with the grace of a dancer to skip back towards him and wrap her arm around his as they strolled on to see more of what was left of the Roman Empire.

Eventually, after a long if fun day of sightseeing - Tim had inserted his hand in la Bocca della Verità and put up a convincing show of getting stuck, having his own Gregory Peck moment - they found themselves back at the hotel.

As they were waiting for the elevator in silence, weary from all the walking, the girl at front desk hailed them to hand them a rather bulky envelope. To Tim's quizzical look, the girl explained how a young woman had asked for him personally and then decided to leave the envelope with the receptionists to be given to him upon his were back in their hotel room and Ziva was watching her companion pull out the contents from the envelope: a small stack of printed sheets of paper, hand written notes, photos...bank statements, too.

"So. What went wrong with our friend," Ziva wondered aloud, taking a sip from her freshly squeezed fruit juice they'd ordered up from room service.

"Well, it appears he'd been involved in something iffy, to say the least," Tim casually replied as he spread out the contents across the cherry wood saloon table.

He picked up his ice cooled San Pellegrino mineral water and sat down beside Ziva.

Together, they went through what they assumed to be evidence, hoping to stumble across a motive for the disposal of Jason Beaumont.

Tim powered up his Mac Book, his faithful companion wherever he went, and started doing what he excelled at, correlating what facts they could glean from what was lying in front of them and whatever else could be discovered on the net.

He suddenly sprang up from the couch, smacking the top of the couch hard with the palm of his hand as he rounded it...

"Damn!"

...and started pacing.

Ziva remained silent at his short outburst for she knew he would explain whatever was bugging him soonish.

Standing in front of the windows, he turned on his heel to face her.

"If only we could get our hands on his cell phone! I suddenly recall an incident at the book fair. We'd just shared a coffee break talking when..."

"Talking about what?"

"Oh, nothing important or pertinent to the case: just your general chit-chat."

"I see. Sorry for interrupting. I thought it might have been case related."

"Never mind. As I said, it wasn't important. Anyway, we'd both barely returned to our spots...to signing and the usual Q&A, when he got this call. He didn't look too pleased about it."

"So someone – possibly the murderer – talked to him with a threat or maybe proposed an ultimatum? But for what?"

"Arrrghhh!" Tim scrunched his face in irritation. "I don't know! He was too far away and besides I couldn't exactly eavesdrop, could I? All I can add is that he was looking livid and his body language suggested anxiety...fear from whomever was on the other end. Come to think of it, I must say he quickly recovered after ending the conversation...which mostly seemed one sided anyway."

"Why would that be, I wonder..."

Tim shrugged. "This is only conjecture, mind you, but maybe he had a solution or else he'd believed they'd never carry out their threats? Who can say? Right now, all we can do is guess. I doubt we can come up with something...even remotely conclusive. It's not like we're on a case at home, with our forensic and medical labs..."

"Well, you do have some of the programs on your laptop, have you not?"

"MacBook, Zee. Not just any laptop," Tim pointed out, frowning.

"Whatever," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Can you not run a facial recognition program on it?"

She leaned forward to pick up one of the pictures. "This man, for instance? Who is he?"

Tim threw his arms in the air and sighed. "I don't know! And, no, I don't have this software on my Mac Book to find out this man's identity. I've got all I need on my PC at home. Who bothers about installing this stuff on a Mac Book when going on a vacation...of sorts?"

He ran a thin hand through his hair.

"Of course."

"So, no means of tracing the caller, nor finding out who's who in these pictures..."

"There."

They both sat in resigned silence.

"We have to admit we can't do this, Zee."

" לעזאזל "

"Damn, indeed."

"Then there remains nothing else to do but take this to the local law enforcement," Ziva said, getting up to gather the documents.

Tim was about to join her at the salon table to give her a hand when he froze.

"Wait!" He stopped her by laying a hand on her arm, his eyes intent on one of the pictures. Letting go of her, he picked up a photograph showing a broadly smiling Beaumont in company of a dark haired beauty and another man, much younger than him. He showed her the picture.

"I know this man. I saw him," Tim insisted, jabbing the air with the photo. "He was there, at the Palazzo. But who's that girl...?"

He gave her the photo to put it back into the envelope with the rest of the documents.

"Let's go down to the business center and take copies, then we go and see..." he dug out the calling card of the officer in charge, "l'Ispettore di Polizia di Stato, Antonino Fragapane. Their jurisdiction, their case, I say. I'm afraid it's all we can do. After that...dinner at Piperno in the Jewish quarter. How does that sound? We might as well try and put this business behind us, right?"

For answer, Ziva grabbed his neck and pulled him close for a kiss.

His fingers went to his lips where she'd kissed him. So spontaneously. A gift. A promise, perhaps. A beginning to something beautiful.


	4. Chapter 4

**_And so we're getting to the finale of this story. You were all great with your follows, favorites and reviews and it needs to be said it's also thanks to those I keep writing! _**

**_I hope you'll enjoy this last read and, remember, your comments are still more than welcome. _**

* * *

.

**_Chapter 4:_**

At any other time, driving in Rome would be considered stressful and dangerous as traffic laws weren't often followed or enforced. So going into a wild pursuit on a Vespa would be suicidal at best. However, there was no time to ponder about this. They were professionals and there was no way they would allow a killer to get away.

Tim and Ziva had just left the Colosseum and stopped to check the map before heading towards the next item on their to-see list, the Circus Maximus, famous for Ben Hur's legendary chariot race, when Tim almost got run over by one of those ridiculously small cars. It was thanks to Ziva's lightning-fast reaction that Tim didn't end up in hospital.

While Tim's eyes had still been on the map, Ziva had happened to witness why the car had careened their way. The driver had been trying to avoid a Vespa, that suddenly and without any apparent reason had lurched dangerously close.

However, it had taken Ziva but a split second to recognize the guy who had caused the near fatal accident. It was the young man from the picture Tim had shown her; the one they both suspected to be Beaumont's killer.

It transpired that Tim had also spotted him among the lookers-on, obviously watching the effects of his handiwork, and he hurriedly scrambled back to his feet.

Deciding his plan hadn't been all that successful as he'd thought, their suspect opened up the throttle and sped off.

Without giving it a second thought, Tim curtly ordered an other young man to step off, what looked like, his brand new Vespa, and waiting just long enough for Ziva to position herself behind him and hold on tight, Tim buzzed after their fleeing suspect.

It seemed Ziva would have her ride on a Vespa scooter after all!

They were unarmed and had no jurisdiction, but at least they were bound to attract the Carabinieri. And it didn't take long before the Italian police did take notice!

_Good!_

They raced along the Via Appia Antica, lined with tombs, past the Baths of Caracalla, the Aurelian Walls, Porta Sebastiano...the Villa dei Quintili, and barely noticed the beautiful landmarks and silent witnesses of a glorious past.

At some point, the road became really dangerous with pedestrians walking on the narrow street for lack of sidewalks!

Tim and Ziva were almost victorious at the Mausoleum of Caecilia Metella where a load of tourists were stepping down a coach and put up an effective roadblock. But the tourists, like a flock of frightened sheep, hurried out of the way of the rapidly approaching Vespas with the Carabinieri hot on their heels.

The scooters and tailing police car pursued their way unhindered.

At the stretch between milestones IV and V, Tim very nearly lost control of his scooter when both Vespas sped over a spot of rather irregular flagstones and he felt as if his heart was about to burst from his chest. A sharp intake of breath near his left ear told him Ziva had equally been startled.

The daring chase ended into a take-down near one of the worst patches of antique Roman cobbles on the ancient Appian Way.

The suspect, high on the adrenaline and truly believing he could pull off this Paris-Dakar experience suddenly lost control when he wanted to take a turn but failed to anticipate the roadworks ahead on that road, having missed the temporary signs. He went down hard when, trying to maneuver the Vespa on the rough terrain, he still hit an obstacle in his eagerness to get rid of his pursuers.

He got back on his feet and took off again. He kept going, intending on finishing this unexpected parcours and get away. However, the next obstacle proved, quite literally, his downfall.

Tim slowed down but still managed to skid on the uneven and pot hole ridden gravel surface, landing both himself and Ziva rather unceremoniously in the Roman dirt.

The Carabinieri, blaring sirens finally petering out with a whine, pulled up and positioned their vehicle across the road, blocking the exit, knowing there was no escape from this roadwork site with the many obstructions.

Tim and Ziva stepped aside when the local police officers rushed past them to arrest the suspect.

They stood staring at each other, a little breathless from the wild race which had taken them from the chaos of the city, through streets broad and narrow, along a historical road from before Jezus' birth to the peace of the countryside.

Tim saw Ziva's eyes slightly widen and then point towards his knees, barely stifling a laugh. Looking down, he noticed they were bleeding and he rolled his eyes. Great! He was sporting a pair of scraped knees just like some school kid.

He shrugged dismissively. "Just a scrape, Zee."

Riding a scooter in capris maybe hadn't been the most sensible thing to do, but then it wasn't like he had any choice, had he.

**_-o0o-_**

They'd all made it back to the city and it didn't take all that long for the young man, one Mario Rossini, to confess.

L'Ispettore Fragapane - "call me Antonino" - and his team had successfully uncovered a drug trafficking gang operating in Rome of which the young man was a member.

Trouble had started when Jason Beaumont, on Friday night, had accidentally made some snapshots of an important drug deal transaction being carried out near his hotel. According to Rossini, Beaumont had become too curious for his own good and even found a way to get in touch and have dinner with the young man's sister. She had even accompanied him to his hotel room, afterwards!

Rossini, however, sickly protective of his sister, had decided he was to defend the family honor - and at the same time protect his criminal fraternity - by 'doing away with' the man who was taking advantage of his sister with – he insisted in his– the sole purpose of bringing down the gang.

The next day, he went to her apartment giving her the riot act as well as quizzing her for details on who Beaumont was and what he was doing in Rome. There were threats and she begged him to leave which he did, apparently with a fair amount of drama, though he did stay on the lookout.

She'd left her apartment soon after him and he'd followed her to Beaumont's hotel room. Once more, he lay in wait till she and the American had slipped out his room early in the morning. The man had accompanied her back to her apartment.

Rossini, mad as hell, then shadowed Beaumont till he got the perfect opportunity to dispose of the American.

Of course, he also had his suspicions that Beaumont had shared his 'evidence' with Tim and when he actually saw his sister deliver a fat A4 envelope at the front desk of Tim and Ziva's hotel... Well, there was only this one thing he could do: eliminate Beaumont's friend.

Freaking nuts, he was.

**_-o0o-_**

**_Mini Epilogue:_**

After a long and invigorating shower in the refined marble bathroom, Tim and Ziva went up to the very large rooftop terrace where an abundance of flowers were giving off an intense fragrance.

They lay back on the comfortable couches, a cool cocktail in their hands and enjoying the sight and muted sounds of the Eternal City. It was so peaceful, up there, and the illuminated and colorful skyline provided an exotic and the most romantic backdrop.

She darted a glance at him and looked quickly away.

He darted a glance at her and shifted uncomfortably.

She got up and walked over to the hedge of plants which concealed the wrought iron railing and watched in awe, taking a sip from her glass. This was indeed the most stunning view, she thought.

He carefully set his long drink on the small side table and also got to his feet, sauntering over to stand beside her, enjoying the scent of her delicate perfume.

She put down her glass on the table beside her and turned towards him, looking him in the eyes. He noticed how the candle light flickering on a nearby table reflected in her eyes wonderfully. _Played_ in her eyes.

Enchanting.

This was the ideal occasion to be bold. It was now or never. Before he knew what he was doing, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her...

**_FINE_**

* * *

**_Thank you all!_**


End file.
